On a Good Day
by thegrumblingirl
Summary: "We have to go to Venice." Last chapter of the More of a Personal Statement series. James Bond/Q, Skyfall!verse. Includes spoilers.


Verse: James Bond, Skyfall!verse

Pairing: James Bond/Q

Rating: T

A/N: This is it, guys—it's not the end for Q and 007, but it's the end of my telling of their story. I've done for them what I could, in just about as many words. There's still [currently 84] fills for the Series of Requests (posted on AO3 only, username thegrumblingirl) and a few missing scenes coming, but this is the end of the overarching 00Q narrative in the series proper.

Disclaimer: I own nothing, I get nothing. Not even for setting this to David Arnold & Nicholas Dodd's _City of Lovers_. X marks the spot.

* * *

"Good morning, sir."

"Good morning. Come in, 007."

Bond sat down across the desk from Mallory, wondering which forsaken corner of the world it would be this time. His boss regarded him for a moment, sizing him up.

"You're going to go to Venice."

James didn't move a muscle. Whether he couldn't or wouldn't was his business.

"Venice?"

"I know that my predecessor never sent you back there, assigning other operatives instead. I presume she never mentioned those missions to you?"

"If she had, why would I have refused?"

"That's what I thought." Mallory passed him a file—not too much paperwork, but thick enough for either a hit or an infiltration. "Scope him out, then take him out. He's in the way."

"Whose way?"

"I never took you for one to be interested in politics."

"Is it that bad?"

"Worse." M's tone was final, so Bond nodded, got up, gathering the file, and moved to leave. He was half-way out the door when M called him back.

"Bond, one more thing. You're taking Q with you."

He turned, a carefully annoyed expression on his face. "What's in Venice that he can't hack into from here?"

"That'll be all, 007." M looked at him steadily, a small smirk around his eyes. James had the sneaking suspicion that the answer was, 'Your head, 007.'

"Q."

"007. I take it we have a joint brief?"

James watched Q close his laptop and place it into a suitcase full of equipment, surveillance and otherwise, with swift and easy motions. "Do you know where we're going?"

"No, he wouldn't tell me."

"We have to go to Venice."

Q's eyes moved up to meet James' a little faster than usual. "I hear Venice is nice this time of year."

Bond shrugged. "I haven't been in a while."

X

Of course it was the same bloody hotel.

Bond clenched his jaw as he stepped into the lobby, Q beside him giving a small whistle through his teeth.

"I didn't think M would go all out like that."

James didn't reply directly, stalking off towards reception instead. "Come on, we're downgrading."

Q furrowed his brow and followed.

"Buon giorno. You have a reservation for Bond, a suite with two bedrooms. One will be enough."

The receptionist's gaze flickered from James to Q and back, smiling when she took in their nearly identical stoic expressions—she had no idea that Q had kicked James in the calf behind the counter.

"Of course, Mr Bond. Oh," she said, checking the bookings on her computer, "I see here you've stayed with us before. Would you like the same room again?"

Q kept his breathing even.

"Do you have one facing the other way? A little less noise from outside, perhaps." He nodded his head towards Q, smiling. "He's a musician," he explained, feigning fond exasperation.

"I can offer you room 209, facing west."

"Thank you."

Her smile widened. "Welcome back, Mr Bond." She handed him the key and summoned a bellboy for their luggage.

When they were alone in their room, Q put his briefcase on the coffee table and rounded on the agent. "What are you doing?"

James was already performing the usual checks for bugs and cameras. "Creating a cover that's actually useful." When he was satisfied that they weren't being watched or listened in on, he walked up to Q and tugged him close by his belt loops. "I prefer hiding in plain sight," he murmured and tilted his head to kiss Q without knocking his glasses askew.

Sometimes when James doled out what Q branch liked to call a 'Bondism,' Q muttered, 'I bet you say that to all the girls,' into his Earl Grey. Today, he remained silent.

"You're two streets away, keep to the right," Q guided Bond over the comms, keeping track of James' signal and catching up on data coming in from London at the same time.

"Actually, do we have time to make a detour?"

"Yeah, why?"

"I want to take a look at something."

"Do you want me to cut the feed?"

Bond smiled quietly to himself behind his aviator shades—Q-branch issue, with a built-in camera. What else. "No, let me show you." _Let me show you where she died._

He took a left and a right, then another left, further into the maze; until, eventually, he stopped, staring. "It's still a ruin."

"Should I access the building's records?"

"No. The permit is probably stuck somewhere because the owners ran out of bribe money."

For a few minutes, neither of them said anything.

"How did you even get out of there?" Q broke the silence.

"Sheer dumb luck," James replied, taking a couple of steps closer. He could see the exact spot where he'd tried to revive her, on the caved-in roof. _Sheer dumb luck and sacrifice_.

When James returned to the hotel, Q was still sitting at the table, laptop open in front of him, talking to London. Bond stepped up behind him and leaned on the back of his chair, finding Tanner frowning at them.

"Problem, Tanner?"

"Not as such, 007, but we have received intelligence that the target is going to have some friends over tomorrow morning. It's your choice whether you want to walk into that on your own or whether we should send back-up."

Bond smirked. "I have back-up."

Tanner hesitated for a second, but then nodded. "You're right. You two have had more trouble than this before, you'll be fine."

"Is that all?"

"It is. Next check-in 5am, right before you leave."

They nodded and the connection closed. Q turned in his seat as James stepped away and took off his shoes.

"That wasn't part of your brief, was it?"

"What was?"

"Back-up. You're here as my therapist."

"That's confidential, I'm afraid."

"Was it your idea, or Mallory's? Just so I know which one of you doesn't trust me."

Q's eyes darkened in anger. "If I weren't here right now, would you be drinking yourself into a stupor?"

James' nostrils flared, but he kept himself in check. "If you weren't here right now, I'd be lying on that bed, wanking off to the thought of you."

"On a good day."

All the anger in his lungs left James in a long exhale. "Today is a good day." Q drew breath to say something, so he interrupted him. "But it's better with you here."

Q bridged the space between them with two long strides and kissed him. Pulling back, he whispered, "I have a second Walther in a hidden compartment. I'm back-up, not a therapist."

"I know."

Later, they were in bed, the last rays of the sun casting shadows through the open windows. It was growing darker by the minute, but neither moved to turn on the lights. James was lying on his side behind Q, kissing his back wherever he could reach.

"She didn't trust me enough," he suddenly said, before nipping at Q's shoulder.

"Why do you say that?"

"She didn't tell me. I could have gotten us out of there, if I'd known."

"What would you have done then?"

"I know my file says I'm difficult to control."

"I don't care what the file says."

"I would have found a way. The right way."

"And let her be sentenced for treason?"

"Anything would have been better than the death she chose."

"She wanted to be sure you lived."

"That's no-one's price to pay for my survival."

"And yet many have, and would again." There was no malice in Q's words, just certainty.

"What if I asked you not to?"

Q rolled onto his back. The blue of James' eyes was just about the only colour he could discern in the fading light. "And if I asked you?"

James averted his gaze.

"People who love can't make promises about death, James, they never could."

The blue eyes swivelled back towards him. "What about life, then?"

"Life is death, you're just looking at it upside-down."

"I know." James bent his head and pressed his lips to Q's chest. "I know."

The next morning, they got up at four—which meant that Q practically had to roll James out of bed. ("I refuse to do the check-in with Tanner half-naked; I'm still not past Honduras and you flashing the Prime Minister. Honestly, how can you _forget_ you've got no clothes on?") The double-0 then grumpily padded towards the bathroom while Q ordered room service.

After Tanner had given them the final set of instructions and intel, they got ready: checking their guns and earpieces, Q pocketing a few pieces of tech along with his knife.

"Is that a tablet that was once a phone, or the other way around?" James asked, watching it disappear into Q's back pocket.

Q pondered this for a moment. "In fact, it's both ways around."

"Poor thing," James commented drily, putting on his regular sunglasses. "Done?"

Q cast one last look through the room to make sure, then nodded. "Done."

They worked their way towards each other through the building; James from the roof down, Q upwards from the basement. In the middle, they met, and between them, the target and his companions were dead within minutes. Q salvaged all hard and flash drives, as instructed, and was about to check the other desk in the corner when James held up a hand, staring at the floor underneath his feet.

"What?"

"There's something wrong with the sound of our steps… Move back two paces." Q did as he asked while Bond went over to the wall and let his hands slide over the panelling, prodding and pressing until one of them gave. The floorboards Q had just moved away from glided open, revealing a gaping hole in the parquet.

"Well."

"Yup."

"That is a lot of money."

"Call Tanner." When Q didn't get out his phone, James looked up at him, raising his eyebrow. "What?"

"Just surprised that your first impulse isn't 'let's grab the cash and run;' it usually is."

James smirked. "The last time I was in Venice with that much money and someone to spend it on, I typed a resignation letter. Perhaps it's better if you handle the communications—I might get tempted, it always makes them so nervous."

When they stepped out into the street again a block away, they reassumed their "cover." James wound his arm around Q's shoulders and kissed his temple.

"You like doing that, don't you?"

"What, freely pretending to be pretending to freely be with the man I'm with? Very much."

* * *

**MI6, THREE MONTHS LATER**

"Q?"

"Yes, Tanner, what is it?"

"Bond just did something really brilliant and really dangerous at the same time, didn't he?"

"Yes, he did."

"Just checking." The door closed with a soft thump.

Since they had no radio contact at the moment, Q typed a quick text to James' phone.

'Congratulations, you're a genius. (Twat.)'

He received a reply about half a minute later.

'Love you, too.'

* * *

More of a Personal Statement.

Done.


End file.
